Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor
by Fanfic Allergy
Summary: After the 74th Hunger Games, Haymitch sits down with Katniss and Peeta and tells them the rules of being a Hunger Games Winner. COMPLETED
1. Rule One

AN: This is my first fanfic. I'm apologizing in advance.

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule One:**

It was on their train ride back to District Twelve that Haymitch, sat Peeta and I down. Supposedly it was to prepare us for becoming Mentors for the next tributes for the Games. But in reality it was something more, in hushed tones in between a louder belch peppered lecture on making contacts and influencing people that Haymitch filled us in on just what it was really like being a Hunger Games victor.

The older man cleared his throat and stated in a pompous voice,_ "Rule One: Don't congratulate the most recent victor for their win. Ever. They didn't win. They survived. Just like you, just like everyone else who went into the arena and came back out again. By congratulating them, you're just making their pain worse." _He took a swig from the wine bottle in his hand. "Got it? Questions?"_  
_

Peeta and I exchanged a glance, his blue eyes meeting my grey. "That makes sense, I suppose," Peeta said, his voice on the other hand sounded uncertain.

Haymitch just looked at him sadly. "You don't really get it do you?"

"He didn't have to kill anyone," I whispered.

"I killed that girl, the foxfaced one!" he protested.

"But you didn't mean to, kid," Haymitch stated flatly. "Princess here looked into the eyes of the tributes she killed and decided that her life was worth more than theirs. So she killed them."

"Hey! They were trying to kill me too!" I defended myself. Then I thought about Rue and Thresh. Would I have killed them if it came down to me and them? I wanted to say no. But I honestly don't know, and I was glad that I didn't have to make that choice in the long run.

"Doesn't mean that you didn't make a choice. It's the choice that all of us had to make other than Breadboy here."

"Fine, so I didn't kill anyone intentionally, but that doesn't mean that I don't feel like crap over the girl from Five's death."

Haymitch nodded. "And that's why we don't congratulate the other victors."

* * *

AN:

Hi! I'm dipping my toe into the fanfic world. The Hunger Games is one of my favorite book series. And I always figured that there were unwritten rules about being a victor. The rules are all written and I am just filling in the scenes surrounding them. I hope you enjoyed.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	2. Rule Two

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Two:**

Haymitch stared at us for a few moments and I stared right back. I wasn't about to let him get to me. The first rule made sense, in a morbid sort of way, I didn't feel like a victor. I felt more like a survivor. I was happy I didn't have to go through it alone. I looked down to where Peeta had taken my hand at some point. Strange how I didn't notice it. I frowned. I didn't love Peeta. That was all an act for the Capitol. I didn't love anyone. I pulled my hand from Peeta's and fiddled with the end of my braid. I didn't miss the hurt expression on Peeta's face but I didn't say or do anything.

After a few moments, he turned back to Haymitch. "So what's next?" Peeta asked.

Haymitch took a pull from the wine bottle in his hand and grimaced at it. "Tastes like crap, I can't wait to get home and get the good stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "Just get on with it."

"Impatient, Princess? That's a bad habit you should try to break." He checked to make sure that no one was coming and then said, _"Rule Two: You always congratulate the mentor who manages to get their tribute through the games."_

What? I blinked, confused at what Haymitch had just stated.

"What?" Peeta echoed my silent confusion. "First you tell us not to congratulate the victors, but then you tell us to congratulate the mentors. Aren't they the same thing?"

"I wish it were that simple, kid," Haymitch responded. "We don't congratulate the victors or survivors of the Hunger Games because it makes them think about all of the people who didn't survive in their games. It's for the same reason that we congratulate the winning mentor. They don't have to go home and look at the two dead kids' families and see the accusations of blame in those eyes."

"But you aren't the one who killed their family," Peeta protested.

"Not everyone sees it that way."

I thought about it for a few moments and then nodded my head. "I get it, I think. Peeta think about the Victor's tour that we're going to have to do. Do you think it's going to be easy for me to look into the eyes of Rue's family and face the fact that I'm alive and Rue isn't?"

"No, it'll be hard for me too, especially for Districts One, Two and Four."

I remembered the careers he partnered with in the beginning of the games. I remembered that I'd killed most of them and I wondered if he was upset about that. I wanted to squeeze his hand in sympathy but decided against it. I'd just removed it and it would be weird to hold his hand again even though I wanted to I didn't want to keep giving him the wrong idea. Instead I settled on saying quietly, "I know it will. Now put yourself in Haymitch's shoes. He's had to mentor forty some odd kids who never came home. The families haven't forgotten that and what he's trying to tell us is that he hasn't forgotten them either."

Haymitch grunted in agreement and took another pull on the wine bottle, draining it.

"It's why you drink, isn't it?" Peeta asked.

"One of the reasons," he answered.

"What did the other mentors say after this year's Games?" I wanted to know.

Fixing me with narrowed eyes, he said. "None of your damned business."

"Haymitch!" Peeta protested.

The older man peered down into his now empty wine bottle. "I think that's enough for today. I'll go over the rest some other time. Like when I have better stuff to drink." he didn't wait for us to protest, but left the compartment with an unsteady walk.

Peeta looked at me as if he wanted to talk about something. I felt my stomach clench as I steeled myself for more questions about what was real and not real inside the games. But instead of asking me anything, he just got up from the sofa and left the compartment.

I stared at the now empty room wondering just what to do now.

* * *

AN: I deliberately changed a tiny bit at the end of Hunger Games. I know that technically Peeta and Katniss don't speak or see each other on the train ride back, but the location was too good to pass up. I hope you don't mind this slight change in canon.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	3. Rule Three

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Three**

We didn't sit back down with Haymitch until a few weeks later. Naturally, it was Peeta who instigated it. He stopped my house in the Victor's Village with a basket of bread and a friendly expression on his face. "I thought we'd go see Haymitch," he said when I'd opened the door.

I considered closing the door as soon as I'd heard the words. I had things to do. Well, actually, I didn't and that was part of the problem. My mother and Prim had already moved all of the things they'd wanted from our old house in the Seam to this one, which wasn't very much. And since we now had all of the money we could ever want, I didn't have to hunt. I was feeling a little out of sorts, not really sure what to do with myself. I knew, though, that I didn't really want to go see Haymitch with Peeta. I still wasn't comfortable around the blonde haired boy.

Peeta seemed to sense that I was on the verge of giving him some kind of excuse. "Come on, Katniss. He still hasn't finished telling us how to be mentors." He tilted his head expectantly as if I was supposed to catch on to what he was implying but not saying. Then I remembered, the rules from the train. Haymitch had only gotten through two before wandering off to find more alcohol. He hadn't even told us how many rules there were.

I looked at Peeta and nodded. "Yeah, he should probably do that before the Victory Tour in a few months."

"I brought cheese buns and a few other kinds of bread."

My eyes narrowed. There was something in his tone. "What kinds of bread?" I asked.

He looked down and then off into the distance. "Just experimenting," he said evasively.

I grabbed the basket and opened the cloth covering the bread inside. I sucked in a breath. Inside were small loaves of bread from the other districts. I looked from the bread up to Peeta. "You made these?"

He nodded and held out one hand for me to return the basket. "I wanted to see if I could. I know that they won't be exactly the same. But I wanted to try, you know?"

I handed him the bread with a shrug. I didn't know, but I decided it was better to not say anything. "Did you bring any liquor?" I asked changing the subject back to visiting Haymitch.

"No."

"I didn't think so. Let me grab a bottle from my Mom's stores and I'll join you."

He nodded and I went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of the white liquor that Ripper down at the Hob brewed. My mother kept it because it was good at disinfecting wounds, not because she liked to drink the stuff. I opened the bottle and sniffed it. Nasty!

Peeta was waiting for me outside. "Ready?" he asked and I nodded.

We walked in silence to Haymitch's much abused house. The man needed a housekeeper or maybe a good fire to clean up the mess. Peeta knocked on the door politely. No response. He looked at me and I rolled my eyes. I lifted one leg and swung it experimentally then kicked the door a few times.

Peeta raised his eyebrows at me.

"He's probably in a drunken stupor," I explained.

It turned out that I was right when a few moments later Haymitch yanked the door open and eyed the two of us blearily. "What you want?" he slurred out.

"You haven't finished teaching us how to be mentors," Peeta answered.

Haymitch snorted. "Is that it?"

I held up the white liquor. "We also brought bribes."

A smile ghosted across Haymitch's lips. "That's more like it," he said. "Let's go for a walk. I could use some fresh air."

Peeta and I shared a confused glance. Why hadn't he invited us inside? Maybe it had to do with the other rules he needed to tell us.

The three of us walked down to the Meadow and took a seat in the soft grass. Absently, I picked a few dandelion leaves and nibbled on them.

"So where did I leave off?" Haymitch asked, settling himself on the ground.

"We're supposed to congratulate the other mentors if their tribute wins," Peeta responded, pulling out a cheese bun and handing it to me.

"Right. So we've got eight more rules to cover." He held his hand out towards me and I gave him the alcohol. _"Rule Three: Don't knock someone else's coping mechanism. We all have them. Be it morphling, alcohol or sex. We all have our vices to keep us from screaming_." Very deliberately, he opened the bottle and took a long drink.

"That's why you drink," Peeta repeated the same words that he'd uttered on the train a few weeks ago.

"One of the reasons," Haymitch agreed.

"But Katniss and I don't have coping mechanisms."

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. "So sure about that, kid?" At Peeta's nod, he picked up a small loaf of what looked to be the seed bread from Eleven. "Then what's this?"

"I'm just trying out something new," Peeta protested. "I'm not doing it because I am trying to forget what happened in the arena. I just want something to do."

"You want something to do so you don't think about the Arena. Mockingjay here is trying to do the same thing, except she hasn't found her escape yet."

I frowned at that. "I don't need an escape," I said curtly. And it was true, I wasn't trying to escape from anything. I just was trying to find my place in this world. I didn't need to hunt to keep my family alive anymore. Gale didn't need me since he'd gone to work in the mines. And Prim was actually starting to put on weight from just a few weeks of steady meals. I just needed to find something to do, to keep me from going insane out of boredom. But then, why did I keep waking up with horrible nightmares of trackerjackers boring into Glimmer's flesh? Why did I try to wear myself out to exhaustion every day just so I could collapse into a dreamless sleep?

Taking another drink from his bottle, Haymitch just looked at me. Damn that man! He knew me too well. It was annoying!

Peeta spoke up again. "Is this why the Capitol wants each of us to take up some kind of trade?"

"It could be. Who knows why the Capitol wants anything?" Haymitch said cryptically.

I thought about what Haymitch had told me before the recap about the Capitol being angry at me for the berries. What he hadn't said was what would happen if I hadn't played along at the recap of being in love with Peeta. He didn't have to. I knew. I knew that what the Capitol wanted, it got. And that, more than the games, was the reason the victors needed a coping mechanism. The victors could never, ever, escape the Capitol and its desires.

* * *

AN:

There's a pretty big gap, six months, between the end of Hunger Games and Catching Fire and during that time a lot of stuff happens including Katniss getting alcohol for Haymitch, Peeta and her building a friendship and actually speaking, and of course, the move to the Victor Village. I'm going to use that to my advantage.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	4. Rule Four

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Four:**

We sat in silence for several long minutes. Peeta handed me a cheese bun and I accepted it absently even though I wasn't hungry. This was still District Twelve and I was still a Seam kid even though the circumstances had changed. That didn't mean that they couldn't just as quickly change back. I also knew that Peeta's offer wasn't charity, something I still couldn't stomach, it was his way of doing something to alleviate this uncomfortable silence.

I tore a small piece of bread and put it in my mouth. It was good. The flavors of the herbs and cheese baked in danced across my palate. Peeta really could bake. I tore off another piece and looked over at Haymitch.

He was sprawled back onto one elbow his legs haphazardly strewn in front of him. He was watching Peeta and I with an odd glint in his eyes. I wasn't sure if it was amusement, affection, or annoyance. It was very likely all three.

Placing the small bite in my mouth, I chewed it carefully thinking about what I wanted to say. Finally I decided that what I really wanted to do was ask a question. So I did. "Why did you bring us to the Meadow?"

"I thought you liked nature," he countered.

"I do. But you don't. So what gives?"

Haymitch smirked and then took another pull from the bottle. "I can't put anything over on you, Princess."

"Get to the point."

I caught Peeta nodding in agreement next to me.

"Fine, kiddies. I brought you here because of _Rule Four: Watch what you say and to who. Just because the you aren't in the arena anymore doesn't mean that people aren't watching you._ It's a lot harder to bug a field than a house. Not that it can't be done. But it's more difficult."

"Are you saying that our houses are bugged?" Peeta asked.

"Who knows. If I were the Capitol, I'd want to keep an eye on those people smart, ruthless, and lucky enough to make it out of the Games alive."

"So why do you live in one of those houses?" I wanted to know. "That means they'd be spying on you too?"

Peeta snorted. "They probably stopped listening to Haymitch long ago. I mean, how many times can you listen or watch someone get sick every morning before you'd vomit yourself. A week? Maybe two? Add in the snores, burps and expletives and whoever's got Haymitch duty's one bored tech."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then we should have had this conversation at your place."

"Do you really want to go back? I can't remember when the last time the place was cleaned. Maybe a year or so ago. Whenever Effie gets too annoyed with it and hires someone to clean it up."

I thought about the stench that rolled off of Haymitch most of the time and then multiplied it and gagged at the result. No, we were better out here in the Meadow. Still, knowing how small the film equipment was from the Games, every insect or flower could be housing a camera or microphone.

Unbidden, I shivered.

* * *

AN:

Considering in the books that the cameras that broadcast the games aren't seen or heard and then there is the fact that Snow has gotten intimate details of Katniss' life without setting off her hunter's instinct of being watched, makes me think that Panem has technology capable of covert spying. Also there is the fact that cameras and microphones are manufactured and sold that are no larger than the eraser of a pencil. I know in Catching Fire Katniss seems oblivious to the fact that someone would be watching her until Snow shows up. That always felt a little well, unrealistic. I'd rather that she'd thought about it and then decided that the Capitol wouldn't take the trouble to spy on her or she was convinced of her own invincibility like most teenagers are.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	5. Rule Five

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Five:**

Peeta apparently noticed my shiver and reached out one hand to squeeze mine. I squeezed it back quickly then pulled away. I couldn't pretend not to notice the hurt in his eyes. I knew he still cared about me. And me, well, I liked him as what, I wasn't sure. He was a friend but that didn't seem to be quite enough. But I wasn't ready to acknowledge him as anything more. Not yet, not ever. I gave Peeta a small smile. One that I hoped conveyed that I cared about him, but didn't send any wrong impressions.

I must have picked the right one since he smiled back at me before turning to Haymitch. "We'll be careful."

"You'd better be," our mentor responded, taking another swig from his bottle. "I don't fancy getting you through the arena only to have you make some colossal mistake that gets you both killed."

"Why would they kill the both of us?" I asked.

Haymitch just shook his finger at me. "Nuh-uh! No going out of order on the rules."

"So killing both of us is a rule?" Peeta looked as confused as I felt.

"Yep." Haymitch didn't offer any more.

"And you're not going to tell us why?"

Haymitch took a drink. "If you ain't smart enough to figure out it out now, then you deserve to wait until I decide to tell you."

"And that's going to help us survive how?" Peeta demanded.

I sighed. I put my hand on Peeta's arm and shook my head. I knew Haymitch was going to be stubborn and we weren't going to get any answers from him that he wasn't willing to give. Besides, I had an idea of why one of us making a mistake would get us both killed. We came out of the arena together, the Capitol saw us as a single unit. They'd kill both of us so the other wouldn't do something even more stupid. Like start a rebellion.

Peeta looked like he wanted to argue with Haymitch more but instead he asked, "So what's the next rule?"

"Glad to see you calmed down, boy," Haymitch said with a smirk. _"Rule Number Five: Don't ask how another mentor gets sponsors unless you really want to know. And trust me, you don't."_

"That's it?" Peeta exclaimed. "That's a rule."

"It is."

"I don't see why this is so important. I thought the sponsors picked which tributes they liked the best from the parade and the interview along with performance in the arena."

Haymitch laughed, it wasn't derisive or mocking, but a full out belly laugh. "Kid, if you think that you're more naive than I thought. Those things are important, sure. And they're about the only thing a tribute can do. But mentors, we have other... options."

"Options?" I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know but I couldn't keep myself from asking.

"You ever wonder why Districts One, Two, and Four have such well equipped tributes?"

"Because they cheat? They train up even though they're not supposed to, and then they take over the cornucopia." I answered.

Haymitch shook his head. "That's tribute's ability and alliances, I'm talking about later. When the food runs out and the alliance has shattered. Those three districts always seem to get last minute sponsors' gifts. Last year Cato got food after you destroyed the supplies, Princess. In previous years, it's been weapons or armor and one year it was even a map. That's the power of the mentor. Cato was a bullying brute. Not too many people liked him. I bet his own mentor, Lyme, didn't like him. But she got him sponsors and she worked like hell to do it too."

"What'd she do?" Peeta wanted to know.

"Don't you want to follow the rule?" Haymitch responded mockingly.

"I think we need to know why it is a rule," Peeta responded.

I agreed. Unless we knew why we shouldn't ask, we would always have the question on the tips of our tongues.

"She went to one of her old standbys, a man who likes to see strong women made weak. Promised him a night where he could do whatever he wanted with her. Are you getting the picture?"

I was. I looked over at Peeta and from the greenish tinge to his skin I knew he understood now too. I now understood why Rule Five existed.

And I really wish I didn't.

* * *

AN:

Lyme is a real District Two victor she is mentioned in Mockingjay and I didn't think that Brutus or Enobaria would be mentors year after year. She's also pretty much an unknown. The only thing that is known is that she has a memorable face. Just the kind of thing that would attract some of the more depraved members of the Capitol. She's also one of the leaders of the Rebellion for District Two, which is a another reason why I think she would be willing to turn against the capitol when so many of Two didn't and so I decided to use that here.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	6. Rule Six

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Six:**

Haymitch seemed content to leave us on that rule, getting up and half walking, half lurching back toward the Victor's Village. To be honest, I was okay with calling it quits for the day, week, month. If that was rule number five, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the rest of the rules were. I found myself looking to the fence and the woods beyond. I wanted nothing more than to get up and run to the forest and the solitude and sanctuary it promised.

"You can go, Katniss," Peeta's voice interrupted my longing. I looked at him and saw the understanding on his face.

Flashing him a quick smile, I stood up. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

I didn't wait any longer. I ran toward the fence, barely pausing to listen for the sound of electricity running through the wires, slipped under the barrier and out into the forest. I didn't stop running until I knew I was out of eyesight from anyone who happened to be walking near the fence. When I did stop, all of the pent up emotion struggled to get out and I leaned against a tree heavily so I wouldn't fall to the ground.

How stupid was I to think, honestly think, that the Hunger Games would be over after I'd won them? Yeah, I knew about the Victory Tour but that was just one tick into a longer lifetime. But I'd forgotten, or if I was more honest with myself, I didn't want to remember that the Victors were always brought in for Games. All of them. Even if they weren't mentoring that year, in those districts that had multiple winners, all of the Victors came to the Capitol each year. They provided color commentary with Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman in those times where the action in the arena was slow and the gamemakers weren't planning any little surprises. I was never going to escape the Hunger Games. It was going to follow me around for the rest of my life, like it did Haymitch.

I let the feelings of despair wash over me for a few moments then ruthlessly tamped them down. I didn't have time to sit here feeling sorry for myself. I still had my family to provide for and Gale's to help out with. They didn't have the extra food that my family got for raising a Victor. And considering the number of times Gale helped me feel my mother and Prim, I owed him.

I threaded my way through the woods until I reached a tree that held one of my bows. I retrieved it, checking for any damage along its length and quickly strung the weapon. Now I went into full hunter mode. I hadn't been particularly quiet when I'd come dashing out into the woods. So most of the more skittish game had likely run off. But that didn't mean that I couldn't find something. Squirrels in particular seemed to think that so long as they were up a tree they were safe. I planned to show them that they were wrong.

A few hours later, I had four squirrels and a pheasant hanging from a brace as well as a pocketful of wild blueberries. I almost didn't pick them because their dark color reminded me of the nightlock berries that had gotten Peeta and I into so much trouble in the arena, but then the more pragmatic part of me won out. These were edible and they tasted good and I wondered if I gave them to Peeta if he could find a way to bake them into some kind of bread or cake. It was starting to get on toward sunset so headed back to Twelve.

I stopped briefly at Hazelle's to give her two of the squirrels. She took them with a small nod and I was grateful that Gale still was at work in the mines. I didn't feel like arguing with him over who was more indebted to whom. Gale and I took care of each other, it was what we did.

I also stopped at Peeta's family's bakery. His mother gave me a disdainful little sniff when she saw that I wasn't there to buy anything, but his father welcomed me with a ready smile. As if the Games had never happened, he and I bargained for the two remaining squirrels and I ended up walking away with two loaves of day old soda bread and a small sack of cookies for Prim. I wondered again why Peeta's family didn't live with their son in the Victor's Village. All of them could have fit within one of the houses. But I supposed that they didn't want to leave their business. Although, thinking about Mrs. Mellark, I wondered if maybe she was the reason that Peeta didn't live with his family.

Walking to the Victor's Village, I stopped at my house first and dropped off the Pheasant and bread, hiding the cookies so that Prim wouldn't find them. My mother took the bird gratefully and nodded absently at the bread. We didn't really need the bread, not with Peeta supplying us nearly every day with his experiments, but I didn't want to become dependent on Peeta or anyone for my food.

"I'll be back in a few," I said to my mother as I walked back to the door. I wanted to give Peeta the berries before I accidentally forgot they were in my pocket and crushed them.

"What about this?" my mother asked holding up the pheasant.

"Have Prim pluck it. Just save the feathers. I can trade them at the milliner's later. "

My mother made a face.

I sighed. "She's got to get over her squeamishness sometime. Cleaning a bird isn't that bad."

She nodded and went to the stove to start heating water to make a stew.

Seeing that she wasn't going to argue with me further, I slipped out the door and walked over to Peeta's cottage and knocked on the door. He didn't answer right away, so I knocked again a few moments later. From inside, I could hear someone moving around so I knew he was home. I was about to raise my hand to knock again when Peeta finally opened the door.

He was wearing the same clothes that he had in the Meadow only now they were splattered with little spots of paint. I raised my eyebrow at him.

"We each have our own coping mechanisms." Peeta smiled slightly and stepped back, wordlessly inviting me into his house.

I nodded.

"You want to see?" he asked.

"Sure," I said with a shrug. "But first let me give you something, you got a bowl?"

He looked at me with a confused expression on his face, but nodded leading me to the kitchen. He pulled out two bowls of varying sizes and I pointed at the smaller of the two. Setting my chosen container on the counter, he put away the other bowl.

I slipped my hand into my pocket carefully removing the blueberries within. They were shinier, the greyish blue covering rubbed away and looked more like nightlock berries than when I'd found them.

Peeta seemed to think so because he asked, "What are those?" in a wary tone of voice.

"Blueberries," I said popping one in my mouth to demonstrate that they were edible. "I thought you might be able to make something with them."

Giving me an inscrutable look, Peeta took a berry between his fingers and studied it before eating it. "Thanks, I think."

"You think?" I asked.

He smiled tentatively. "You could be trying to kill me."

I stiffened. While I heard the teasing tone in his voice and I knew he was joking, it was still a bad joke and it still hurt a little. "If I'd wanted you dead, I wouldn't have wasted my time on you in the arena." I tried to mimic his tone, but knew as soon as the words came out that I'd failed because Peeta flinched.

"I didn't mean..." he started, but I held up a hand.

"I know you didn't. It was just a bad joke."

He nodded.

"It's okay. I'm not mad, I just don't know what I am," I finished lamely.

"I get that. We're not the same people that went into that arena." His voice took on a far away quality. "It's like in a way our old selves died in there just as much as any of the other tributes and we're just some kind of doppelgangers trying to fit in with our old lives. I didn't want the Capitol to change us, Katniss. But it looks like I'm doomed to never get what I want." He looked at me pointedly.

I felt a stab of guilt and following quickly on its heels a rush of anger. "I didn't want this either, Peeta! But I damn well refuse to feel guilty for both of us surviving. Yeah it changed us, but that's life. You either deal with it or you die. And I don't feel like dying." I took a deep breath and changed the subject. "So do you think you can make something with those?" I motioned to the blueberries.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, I think I have a recipe for scones or something that can use blueberries. I can always try it out."

A little idea formed in my head. "You think you can make it by tonight?" I asked.

His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he looked at me. "Yeah, probably. Why?"

"Well, I got a pheasant earlier and my mother's making it into stew. Do you think that Haymitch might like a hearty meal with a nice sweet dessert to follow?" I leaned on the counter toward him.

"Trying to wheedle another rule out of him?" Peeta asked.

I shrugged. "I figure the more we know the fewer mistakes we'll make."

"Yeah," Peeta agreed. "So did you want to see what I was working on now? Before you head back home?"

I nodded. "Lead the way."

Taking my words at face value, he led me to the smallest bedroom which had been converted into an art studio. On the easel was a half-finished canvas depicting Cato stroking a sleeping Clove's hair next to the fire in their camp at the Cornucopia. It confused me, because the expression on Cato's face was tender almost loving and it totally didn't mesh with the brutal Cato that I remembered.

My confusion must have shown on my face because Peeta spoke up just then, "I don't think that they knew each other from before. They were both volunteers, you know."

I nodded still studying the painting.

"They met on the train and from what I could catch, they hit it off," he continued. "I don't think it was romantic, more like they were brother and sister, but he cared for her and I think she liked him back. I just wanted to remember him this way not the way..." he trailed off.

"Not the way he died," I finished.

"I still see him in my dreams, you know," he whispered. "Hear his screams."

I shuddered. I didn't want to tell him that Cato, Clove, Rue and all of the rest of the tributes haunted my dreams at night. So I didn't say anything.

It turned out that I didn't need to since Peeta continued. "I want to remember him as something other than what haunts my nightmares. I want to remember them all."

"I don't," I said quickly. "I'd rather forget the whole thing ever happened."

Peeta didn't acknowledge my words but I saw a flash of pain cross his features. "You'd better go," he said after a moment. "I've got to get to work baking and you should get home."

He was kicking me out. I guess I wasn't surprised. Things were still strange between the two of us. I know that he was still hurt about my revelation on the train back from the Capitol, but I was hoping that he would get over that. Haymitch was right, no one would understand you as well as another Victor. And here in Twelve the options were limited.

A few hours later, Peeta was at my door holding two baskets of steaming baked goods. He handed one basket to my mother and motioned for me to follow him. I grabbed the covered bowl of stew and bag with a few slices of the soda bread and walked out into the night.

The two of us walked in silence until we reached Haymitch's door. There were lights on inside but we couldn't hear anyone within. Remembering the morning and how polite knocks don't work with Haymitch, I pounded on the door. That seemed to work since a few moments later the door opened.

"I thought I was done with you kids and that I could get some serious drinking taken care of."

"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint, but you haven't scared me off yet," I snapped back.

Haymitch smirked. "Sure didn't seem like that was the case this morning. I seem to recall a certain victor almost losing her lunch."

"Speaking of food, we brought you some," Peeta stepped in before I could retort. "Katniss has some stew and I've got blueberry pound cake."

"Got anything to wash it down with?"

"I think you've got that covered already," Peeta stated blandly.

We sat down at Haymitch's scarred and grungy table and gave the older man his food. He ate it quickly while asking us about what we did after he left. Peeta told him about painting and I tuned out not wanting to hear all about Cato and Clove again.

"That'll make a good post-Games career," Haymitch grunted. "Something the Capitol would be happy to trot out and show off."

"Unlike you?" I asked acerbically.

"Nope, not that it matters at this point. So what'd you do, Princess?"

"What do you think?" I eyed the bowl he was eating from pointedly.

"Ah, I don't think the Capitol would approve of that for a post-Games career. Poacher isn't high on their list of acceptable job choices."

I shrugged. "I don't really have any Capitol approved skills."

"Ain't that the truth. Might want to talk to Trinket or Cinna and see what they suggest. Can't have one half of the star-crossed lovers of Twelve doing anything more to anger the Capitol, now can we?"

"I'll think about it."

Peeta spoke up then. "So what's the next rule?"

Haymitch smiled and settled back on this chair with a satisfied grin. "That's an easy one. _Rule Six: Respect the stylists. They may be flighty bastards but their ability can spell life or death for the kids in the arena_."

"You've already told us that one, on the train to the Games, remember?"

"So I did, but it bears repeating. And it's even more important when you're mentors. Because a bad stylist/mentor relationship can be deadly for the tributes."

I narrowed my eyes. "It sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I am. You kids got lucky with Cinna and Portia last year. The team we had for the previous fifteen years, well, they didn't like me much."

Remembering the slew of Coal Miner along with the naked covered in coal dust costumes from the last few years, I asked, "What happened?"

Haymitch shot me a look and took a drink of the white liquor. "I didn't agree with Nero's vision and I told him that I thought he was an uninspired hack."

"You mean he actually thought that the Coal Miner's outfits were good?" Peeta asked incredulously.

"No, his original vision was to dress the tributes in these bulky costumes so they would look like they were a lump of coal."

"That doesn't sound much better," I stated.

"It sucked mutt balls. But it would have been memorable. And that might have meant that you wouldn't be the only female victor from Twelve."

I didn't know about the games he was referring to. I was only one when they took place so I said, "Tell us about it."

"Her name was Belladee Hatfield. She wasn't strong like you, Princess. But she was smart. Kinda reminds me of that girl from Five last time. She had a strategy: keep away from the other tributes until the end. Almost worked, too. Except the arena was a desert and the only source of water was from the oasis where the cornucopia was and as always the careers staked that place out something fierce. Belladee got lucky and got a backpack with a canteen of water and some food. And she used her mining smarts to find a cave and hunker down out of sight. The arena made it easy for the careers to find tributes in the open and soon it was down to the final eight, Belladee, the careers, and some boy from Seven. She might have made it if she were memorable. But hiding out for the whole Games and her interview and parade costumes meant she was as forgettable as most of the tributes from your year. If she'd had memorable costume, I might have been able to get her a bottle of water or a coconut from a sponsor. But every sponsor I approached couldn't even remember her face so wouldn't part with their money." He stopped and took a drink and stared off into the distance.

"So what happened to her?" Peeta asked.

"She died," Haymitch said bluntly. "Gutted like a pig by some girl from One when she tried to sneak to the oasis and get water. Something she wouldn't have had to do if she'd had sponsors."

"So what happened after that?" I asked.

Haymitch took another drink. "Nothing. One of the careers won and I got to come back here and see two more dead kids' families glare at me for not being able to save their children."

"I think Katniss wanted to know about the Stylist," Peeta said after a few moments.

"What's there to know? He held a grudge against me ever since." Haymitch took a swig from the bottle. "Swore he wouldn't put one bit of effort into doing something that wouldn't be appreciated. Even getting a new partner in every few years or so couldn't get him to try even a little. I was glad when he retired, I'd hate to think what would have happened to you two if you'd been in Nero's hands instead of Cinna and Portia's."

Peeta and I considered that for a few moments. Then Peeta spoke, "I'm glad I got Portia. She really cared about how I appeared. It made it a lot easier to play the role I needed to."

I nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what I would done without Cinna."

"I know what you would have done," Haymitch said with a grunting laugh. "You would've died. Simple as that. You were the Girl on Fire. The Star-Crossed lovers and the costumes Portia and Cinna constructed made that all possible."

"So we owe them a lot," Peeta said. "What should we do about that?"

"You do what the rule says. You respect the hell out of them and you listen to them. They know as much about how the Games work as anyone else. And they are the last people to see your kids off. Make sure that you always remember that."

Peeta looked back and forth between Haymitch and me. "I think we will."

"Good. Now get the hell out of my house. Story time is over."

That was fine with me. I had a phone call to make to Cinna.

* * *

AN:

Oh my was that a long chapter. The story kind of got a bit away from me on this one. I hope I didn't bore you with everything but it all just seemed to flow. I totally made up Nero and Belladee all we really know about the District Twelve tributes is that they died early and that the stylist that Katniss remembers tends to dress the kids as coal miners or makes them be naked and covered in coal dust. It just seems to me that Haymitch had to have a reason why he would tell Katniss and Peeta to go along with the Stylists. He's just too ornery to give them this kind of advise without a really good reason.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	7. Rule Seven

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Seven:**

Peeta and I didn't have a chance to corner Haymitch much in the following months. It almost seemed like our mentor was going out of his way to avoid us often drinking himself into a stupor. I wasn't sure if he was drinking more to forget the memories of the games and tributes he'd lost or if he was just doing it to be perverse. Either reason was likely valid.

It was less than a month until the Victory Tour and things hadn't gotten any better. Peeta and I still hadn't managed to pry any more of the rules out of our mentor and our relationship, if you wanted to call it that, was at best strained. It didn't help that I still didn't know how I felt about Peeta. I liked kissing him a few of the times I had to for the camera and I could talk to him most of the time. And I didn't get the same feeling of weirdness from him that I got from Gale now.

Things were weird between us, don't get me wrong, but it was a different kind of weird. Before the Games, I would have said that I could have talked to Gale about everything. Now after them, I knew that wasn't true. I couldn't talk to Gale about what it was like in the Arena. How everything boiled down to survival. Kill or be killed. The pain of watching an ally, a friend, die. I couldn't talk to him about those things.

With Peeta, I didn't have to. He knew what it was like. While he hadn't been particularly close to the career pack that he'd joined up with initially, it didn't mean that he'd liked seeing them killed. He'd still gotten to know them. Hear about what they wanted to do when they won the games. Find out about their lives back home. They weren't just Careers anymore, they were kids with names, hopes and fears who also happened to be deadlier than a pack of muttations. Watching them die, knowing that they died and we lived, well it got to Peeta sometimes. It got to me, as much as I hated to admit it.

Which was why I was standing in front of Peeta's door wondering if I should knock on it or not. Last night hadn't been a good one. I got to watch Glimmer and the girl from Four die over and over again in my dreams. Their faces mutilated beyond recognition. It'd taken all of my effort not to scream when I'd bolted awake. I wasn't able to sleep again and spent the rest of the night waiting for the sun to come up so I could flee to the sanctuary of the forest.

But even that was denied me. As I'd approached the edge of the Meadow, I could hear the tell-tale buzzing indicating that the fence was electrified. One of the few times I desperately wanted to escape and I couldn't. I considered briefly chancing it, but decided against it.

I wandered back toward town and the Hob. The old building was strangely quiet with fewer traders than normal. I walked up to Greasy Sae and gave her a coin for a bowl of stew. You could barely even call it that. It was mostly warm water with a few starchy roots and shreds of meat floating in it.

I raised an eyebrow and Sae shrugged. "Shortages," she said quietly.

Looking around the Hob, I nodded. "So that's why..."

"Yeah. Even Ripper is out of stock," Sae said, indicating with her ladle the empty space where the one armed woman sold her white liquor.

"I bet Cray isn't too happy about that."

"Who do you think bought her last bottle? About got into a fight with that mentor of yours over it too."

I absently ate my soup as I imagined the scene. I could just picture Haymitch and Cray coming to blows over the last bottle of spirits. Then a thought struck me. If Haymitch was out of liquor, I could use that to my advantage. My mother always kept a few bottles on hand as a disinfectant/anesthetic I could probably grab one and use it to coerce Haymitch into telling Peeta and I the rest of the rules.

With that thought in mind, I quickly finished my food and rushed home. I checked the cupboard where my mother kept her stores and sure enough there were four bottles of the spirits, one of them partially used. I grabbed an unopened one and walked to Peeta's house. But as I was about to knock on the door, another thought hit me. What if Peeta didn't want to see Haymitch? We kept doing this uncomfortable dance of not knowing how to act with one another. I didn't know how to act around him.

Which is where I stood right now, bottle in hand, trying to figure out if I should knock on the door.

Unfortunately, that choice was taken from me when the door opened and Peeta looked at me in askance.

"I was going to knock!" I said, realizing at the words came out just how silly they sounded.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

I looked down at my hands and the bottle clutched there. "Not really."

"At least you're honest," he said half to me, half to himself. "So I'm guessing it's bribe our mentor into doing his job time?"

"Yeah, with the shortages Ripper's out of stock."

"I know."

My eyes flew to his. "You've been to the Hob?" That seemed odd to me, Peeta was so straight-laced. I had a hard time picturing him going to the black market.

He shrugged. "I can get some supplies that I can't get other places."

"Like what?"

"Paints, spices, things that are hard to find around here, it isn't really important. But the last time I went, I noticed that there were fewer and fewer merchants around."

I nodded. I'd noticed the same thing today. "So you want to go?"

"Sure, let me grab my cane," he said closing the door slightly to open the closet beside it.

When he'd grabbed it, he motioned for us to start walking toward Haymitch's house. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. As the weather got colder, I noticed that Peeta used his cane more and more. I could see by his expression that he was in pain, but didn't want to let me know about it. Consciously I slowed my pace.

Peeta noticed. "You don't need to slow down for me, Katniss."

I debated thinking up an excuse, but decided against it. "Your leg's bothering you."

"I'm used to it. Today's just a bad day. Weather's probably due for a change. I'll be better in a few days."

"I know. You know, you should consider getting a job as a weatherman. You'd to a lot better than Gaius Raines and you're a lot more handsome," I teased mentioning the broadcaster who did the morning weather reports for all of the districts. We used to watch him in class every morning along with the daily Panem Patriotic News.

Peeta laughed. "I'd only be good at predicting when it was going to rain or when it's going to get colder."

"Then you'd still be loads better than Raines. He can't even get the weather right after it's happened." It was true. Raines' report was so inaccurate that it'd even turned into a joke. Most people didn't even pay attention to what he said. Other than a few betting souls who were part of the prediction pool. Last year Raines was right about ten percent of the time. Up from the previous year's eight percent. The Capitol really didn't want us getting any useful news. At least not in my opinion.

We reached Haymitch's house and the door opened. "Saw you coming from the window," he grunted, his voice sounding more rough than normal. "Come to pump me for information, kiddies?"

"Yes," Peeta answered.

"You bring any encouragement?" Haymitch's voice sounded hopeful.

I brandished the bottle in my hand as an answer. Haymitch made grabbing motions toward the bottle. "You look like crap," I said bluntly, taking a step back away from my mentor's hands.

"I feel like crap. But I'll feel much better once you give me that bottle."

I shook my head. "No. You tell us the rest of the rules, then you get it. No more song and dance."

Haymitch narrowed his eyes. "Or I could not tell you at all."

I glared back at him.

"You'll tell us," Peeta said softly, from beside me. "Because these rules will keep us alive. And you don't want to add our faces to your nightmares."

Both Haymitch and I looked at Peeta who shrugged.

"Look who's become all knowing," Haymitch grunted. "Maybe you don't need to hear these rules. Sounds like you already know 'em."

Shrugging again, Peeta said, "I won't be sure until you tell us."

"Fine," our mentor said brusquely. "But I get to decide when to tell you the rest of them."

"I thought you were doing that already," I retorted.

"No, you two kids have been bugging me for them. From now on, no more disturbing my peace with your pesky requests. If I feel the time is right, I'll tell you. You don't tell me."

"Then I guess, I don't need this bottle," I said, turning to walk back to my house. "I'll just take it back to my mother's stores."

"Fine!" Haymitch exclaimed. "Fine! You win. You get one rule tonight and you leave that bottle here."

I looked more closely at the older man and noticed that his hands were shaking a little more than usual. The lack of drink was really getting to him. From my mother's comments, he probably was also starting to get nightmares and hallucinations. And knowing his past, I could guess they were pretty gruesome.

Peeta seemed to guess this as well because he said, "So long as Katniss agrees, I can live with that."

Seeing Haymitch's expression, I nodded. "I can live with that too."

I could almost see relief flood the older man's body. "Good. Now here you go. _Rule Seven: No one else will understand you quite as well as your fellow victors. District rivalries don't matter anymore. Survival does._"

"That one actually makes sense," Peeta said.

"I'm not sure that's an actual rule, though," I replied. "It seems too obvious."

"Doesn't make it any less true, sweetheart. Now hand over the goods." I gave Haymitch the bottle which he opened almost reverently and took a long pull from it. "That's the stuff."

"Thanks, Haymitch, we'll leave you to your new friend." Peeta touched my elbow and motioned to me that we should leave.

I considered arguing but noticed that Haymitch wasn't even paying attention to me. "Don't drink that all in one shot," I said instead.

The man responded to me with a rude gesture and walked back into his house and shut the door.

I looked up at Peeta. "So why'd you say that the rule makes sense?" I asked him.

Peeta shrugged and started limping back toward our houses. "Because it does. Surely you've noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"That it's harder to talk to people who you used to talk to all the time before the Games."

I thought of Gale, Prim and my mother. I'd noticed things had changed between us, just not how much. "That doesn't mean that I'm going to go out and become best friends with Finnick Odair!" I protested, tossing the name of the most famous victor out there as an example.

"I'm not saying that you are. But when I got home, I found I couldn't talk to my brothers or my dad at all. I used to talk to them all the time. But when I got back, it was different. They were happy I was alive and they'd watched the whole thing. But that didn't mean I could talk to them about it. Then there's Farl."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, I can see it every time I see him. He feels guilty because he didn't volunteer to take my place."

"But no one volunteers."

"You did," Peeta pointed out.

"Oh." I hadn't really thought about that Peeta had had one of his older brothers still young enough to volunteer in his stead. And Farl was the district wrestling champion so the odds would have been more in his favor to an outsider who didn't know Peeta as well as I knew him. Then it all clicked. "That's why your family doesn't live with you."

Peeta nodded. "They haven't said it in so many words. And I did offer to have them live with me, but they refused saying that they couldn't leave the shop. But I know that's not the real reason. They don't know who I am anymore."

"Well, I know who you are," I said.

"Oh? And who am I?"

I smiled at him. "You're still Peeta. You're still the boy with the bread."

He smiled back at me. "Thanks."

I resisted the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand and instead murmured. "We victors have to stick together."

"I'll always stick by you, Katniss."

"I know."

* * *

AN:

Up a little early, but it's Thursday in most of the world so it still counts, right?

Not quite as long as last chapter, but still a good length. Again I made up Gaius Raines, but I could totally see mandatory news time in school. Kind of like Channel One for those people who remember that, which I do, Anderson Cooper's first gig! I swear they were trying to kill poor Anderson by sending him to Somalia, Bosnia, and Kuwait. Also since there is no reason given in canon why Peeta doesn't live with his parents I thought that this would make sense. I always felt that Peeta's middle brother would have some serious guilt over not volunteering especially since Katniss did.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	8. Rule Eight

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Eight:**

The Quarter Quell had been announced and turned the world upside down with its revelation that the winners of the previous Games would be reaped. I knew I was going in and I also knew I was going to die. I'd made that deal with Haymitch already. He hadn't liked it, but then again, I didn't give him much choice. He'd saved me the first time through. He now owed it to Peeta to save him, despite what Peeta wanted.

I already knew that Peeta would be the one joining me in the Arena. If he was called, I don't think Haymitch was going to take his place and if Haymitch's name was drawn then Peeta was going to Volunteer. Only Haymitch acting completely out of character would change the outcome and only if his name weren't drawn from the large glass bowl.

Also for the first time ever, we were going to train. Train like our lives depended on it. Because they did. Every morning we did exercises to get our bodies back into top shape, which was harder on Haymitch than it was on me or Peeta despite his leg. Then we had lunch and watched one of the Games featuring a possible opponent. After that, we had weapons training with what weapons we could find in Twelve. And finally, we watched another Games in the evening. In a way, the Capitol did us a favor, we knew our pool of opponents this time and we could see them in action.

A few of the Games who still had living Victors were pretty boring to be honest. Like the one with the girl from Three. She didn't so much as win as outlast most of her competition. She'd found a hidey hole in the middle of a quicksand bog in an oak tree and she'd managed to get away with a better backpack of supplies. One with more dried food in it. So while she was hungry, she knew how to make it last and she'd figured out how to make the acorns around her tree palatable. So she spent the entire games in her tree waiting for people to come to her. When that finally happened, a large brute of a boy from One, she was ready. She stood on the edge of her little island and taunted the boy to come get her. When he did, he was immediately sucked into the quicksand. Then the girl carefully picked her way over to him and pushed him under the sucking mud with a branch. He was her only kill.

Then there were the Games like the year Finnick Odair won. That game was quick and brutal. Once Finnick got that trident he was unstoppable and the Capitol had their Golden boy.

But the Games that I remembered the most were the ones where the Victor was airlifted out of the arena shaking and shivering. Not from cold, but from the shock of having survived. And I'd said so.

Haymitch looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Just how do you think you looked on your way out of the arena?"

I shrugged. I knew how I looked, I'd watched the replay and I knew that most of my expression was concern over Peeta and his leg. "I didn't look like that," I said.

"If you say so."

Peeta spoke up. "Haymitch's just riling you. Don't let him."

I looked at my mentor and took in the glint in his eyes. He was playing with me, I could see that, but underneath it all he was trying to make a point. "What happened to those victors?" I asked.

The older man rummaged through a few tapes and pulled out three of them. "This one, she turned to morphling and barely manages to make through the Games. Most of her kids die at the cornucopia so she doesn't have to watch all that much."

"Doesn't she teach her tributes to run?" Peeta asked.

"She doesn't want them to win," Haymitch said grimly.

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want them to become like her. She's told us mentors several times that she wishes that she died in the arena."

"I'm glad I wasn't her tribute," Peeta said empathetically and I silently agreed with him. Haymitch for all of his faults was at least halfway decent as a mentor. At least he was for me. He'd not bothered helping Peeta at all until I found him by the stream.

"What about the other two?" I asked.

"You should remember this one," Haymitch stated. "She wasn't that long ago. Annie Cresta from Four."

I did remember that victor. She'd gone all to pieces when her district partner was killed in front of her and then managed to survive after Gamemaker's burst a dam flooding the arena. She'd had to tread water for days while all around her tributes drowned. Her only kills had been when someone had foolishly tried to drown her first and she'd pulled them underwater with her and she'd held her breath for longer than they could.

Peeta apparently remembered her as well since he asked. "What about the last one?"

Haymitch held up the third tape. "You mean this one? He'd been a Career. Still, it isn't easy killing your own comrades especially your district partner. To make up for it, he settled down, had a few kids then lost it when one of them was reaped last year."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I'd killed most of the Careers last year other than the boy from Four and Clove, who was killed because of me. "Who?" I asked.

"The girl from One, Glimmer. Didn't know her dad was victor did you?"

I shook my head, his Games were before my time.

"He coached her on how to make an impression, how to get sponsors, but that didn't mean a damn thing once you dropped that nest on her."

Pushing back the memories of the glowing hallucinations and Glimmer's flesh cracking and spilling green pus all over, I forced myself to glare at Haymitch. "Am I supposed to feel bad about it? She tried to kill me first!"

"No, But that brings us to Rule Number Eight: _We're all a little insane. It's just a little more noticeable in some victors than in others._"

I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. "I don't see how that's helpful."

"It means that we're all a little unpredictable. Sane people, well, they like patterns. Patterns everyone can see. It's part of what makes the Careers so predictable and it is their greatest weakness, like you showed in your games, sweetheart. Take away their strategy, and they are on equal footing. That won't work with a Victor. Even career Victors."

"So you're saying we should ally ourselves with the Careers?"

"I'm saying it might not be a bad idea to remember that all of us are used to thinking outside of the box."

"Fine! We'll ally ourselves with Finnick Odair and Lyme Stonewell and whatever Glimmer's dad's name is if they're reaped."

"I wouldn't recommend joining up with Striker." When I looked at him blankly, Haymitch filled in. "Glimmer's father. He has it out for you for killing his little girl."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Peeta picked up Striker's tape. "We haven't watched this one yet. Why don't we do that now?"

Seeing the look on Haymitch's face, the warning and the worry, I nodded. "Fine. But I still refuse to feel bad for killing his daughter." Except I did.

And I knew what my nightmares were going to be about that night.

* * *

AN:

I am so sorry I didn't update last Thursday. I ended up going to a convention with friends then came back with a nasty case of con-plague. I only had about half of this written before we had to leave and I don't have a laptop. I didn't think we were leaving until Thursday but we ended up going down Wednesday. It was a lot of fun although I am still hacking up a lung, Baltimore and I don't get along apparently.

On to the story, I made up Glimmer's dad. But I am taking liberties with the story and considering the story of Gloss and Cashmere it isn't all that unlikely that a parent/child situation would happen. I hope you enjoyed it!

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	9. Rule Nine

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Nine:**

I stepped out of the hospital wing of Thirteen with relief. I was getting heartily sick of them. and I was grateful that I'd only had to spend a night there after the events that had happened in District Eight. Still, I wasn't sure how to take Peeta's broadcast last night. But I was grateful that Finnick had thought to hide the fact that we'd seen it.

I looked around and somehow wasn't surprised to see Haymitch lounging against the wall. "Come to steal my breakfast? Too bad I already ate it."

Haymitch shrugged. "Thought I'd walk you to your next meeting."

"No meeting, I'm supposed to take it easy," I countered. "Doctor's orders."

"And you're planning on following them?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't," I said. "It's not like I'm doing anything useful. I don't even know what's going on in the other districts."

Haymitch shot me a sharp look and I cursed my runaway tongue. I was supposed to be pretending that I hadn't seen the interview last night. That I hadn't heard Peeta's traitorous words or seen his haggard appearance. "So what are you planning to do?" my mentor asked slowly.

I shrugged. I didn't really know what I was planning to do. I wanted to go hunting. I wanted to force Coin into telling more of what was going on. I wanted to do something constructive.

I wanted to save Peeta.

The thought flitted across my brain and I knew it was true. I missed him and I hated him being in the hands of the Capitol.

Haymitch must have been watching me very closely because he said without any preamble. "_Rule Nine: Don't get too attached to anyone or anything unless you are willing to lose it or them. The Capitol can and will use them to try to control you._" Then he turned and started to walk down the hallway away from me.

Staring at him blankly, I couldn't stop myself from blurting out. "You can't just tell me that and walk away!"

"Sure I can, sweetheart. Just watch me."

"But shouldn't you be waiting until Peeta's around?" I half-asked, half-demanded.

"I can tell him all about it some other time," he replied, his back still turned on me. "It looked like you needed to hear it now."

I couldn't argue with him. He was right, I did need to hear that now. I knew that the Capitol was using Peeta to manipulate the revolution. To manipulate me. I couldn't fault Snow for using him like that, I'd given him the ammunition, after all. It was only common sense that he'd use Peeta against me. Seeing him so damaged, broke something within me.

"Katniss! Katniss!" A woman's voice called out behind me and I turned to see Cressida running down the hall toward me.

I turned back just in time to see my mentor turn the corner and escape any more discussion of rules or the Capitol. With a sigh, I greeted Cressida who explained that she wanted to me to come record a few things for the next propos. I agreed, not because I thought it would do anything to help the war. But because it would for a few moments get my mind off of Peeta and the way the Capitol was breaking him.

At least that's what I hoped would happen.

* * *

AN:

And we've time-skipped into Mockingjay. This scene takes place right at the beginning of Chapter Nine there and it sounded like something that Haymitch would say to Katniss. Especially after Peeta's second interview. This section is a little shorter, but the time period that I am shoehorning this into is pretty small. That and without Peeta to talk about this with, I didn't think that it would need to be dragged out. Katniss and Haymitch get each other. Peeta doesn't always get them.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	10. Rule Ten

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Rule Ten:**

The war was over. The rebellion had won. I'd won. Except I didn't feel like a winner. It was like being in the Games all over again, only worse. Prim was dead. Finnick was dead. Gale might as well have been dead for his involvement with Prim's death. There were many times, I wished I were dead. If only to have the peace that death offered me, but after my initial breakdown in the Capitol I'd never had the will to go through with suicide.

I'd read somewhere that some general long before there was a Panem said that war is hell. And I had to agree. It is hell. It is all hell. And just because the war is officially over doesn't magically make everything better. I sure wasn't better, if there was even such a thing.

I was broken and scarred and living from minute to minute, hour to hour. I couldn't fault my mother for abandoning me to go to Four. In her mind, she'd lost both of her children to the war. Just because one was still alive didn't mean that they were any less lost. She could barely face her problems, I knew this. I saw how she acted after my father died. There was no way that she could face me and everything she saw in me. No, I understood her reasons. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less.

Instead, the courts, and if I am honest the Capitol, decided that Haymitch would be my guardian. I don't know if I considered it brilliant or terribly short sighted of them. Haymitch, for all of his mentoring, was about the last person I would trust with the well-being and care of someone long-term. Still, it meant that I could be home in Twelve instead of stuck in a room in the Capitol like a caged animal.

Returning to Twelve with Haymitch was easy he knows when to talk and when not to. I didn't want to. One hovercraft ride and the man unceremoniously left me at my house to wallow in my grief. I knew he's the one who talked to Greasy Sae about taking care of me. I knew because she told me late one night when I asked her why she was there making sure I ate. She wasn't being paid for this like I had feared, but she hadn't known I was back until Haymitch sought her out. I suppose I owed him for making sure I was fed. But I still felt like I owed Sae more.

I must have still been half mad when Peeta finally returned to Twelve. The sound of his shovel roused me from my funk and I investigated. Seeing the bushes in his wheelbarrow, I latched on to the latter half of their name. Rose. But an evening primrose bush looks nothing like an ornamental or even wild rose. Its leaves are thinner and spikier. The plant itself is without thorns and lower to the ground. Only the flowers are even close to similar to the wild rose with its four heart-shaped petals. Only the most unobservant person would mix the two up. The fact that I misidentified them spoke volumes about just how damaged I'd been. But it woke me up. Got me out of the stupor I'd been living in.

The fact that Peeta had returned the same day I decided to truly start living again wasn't lost on me.

Two days after Peeta's arrival and Buttercup's return, Haymitch moseyed into my kitchen with a bottle of alcohol in one hand. Sitting himself down at the table, he reached out and yanked away my bowl of stew and snagged a loaf of bread and started eating them, tearing the bread up into smaller pieces to dip into the stew.

"Go ahead make yourself at home," I said with a hint of irony and got up to get another serving of stew.

"Don't mind if I do."

Peeta just looked at him and then at me as if deciding what to do or say and I shrugged. What could we do? It wasn't like we were hurting for food. "So what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I suppose you mean other than stealing your lunch. Again," he added with a belch.

"Yeah, other than that."

"Figured I'd come by to give you the last of the rules."

I frowned. Did it really matter now? With the games gone, there wasn't any real need for mentors or mentor rules. "Aren't you a little late?" I asked. "Besides, Peeta still hasn't heard the ninth one, yet."

"Yes, I have," Peeta said quietly.

"When?"

Peeta's eyes met mine and then glanced away. "While I was in Thirteen recovering from being hijacked."

"Oh."

"You didn't think I would let my favorite tribute fall behind," Haymitch asked mockingly.

I shook my head. No, I suppose he wouldn't. Still, I was glad that he hadn't forgotten about Peeta.

"So, here it is. The last rule for being a Hunger Games victor," Haymitch said pompously. "_Rule Ten: Stay alive. Don't let the Capitol win._"

"That's it?" I asked incredulously.

"That's it," he agreed, shoveling food into his mouth. "Pretty simple, but one that people tend to forget." He looked at both of us pointedly.

"I suppose that makes sense," Peeta started slowly. "Each victor is someone that could be a threat to the Capitol. We survived their games, often on our own terms. And by surviving, we give hope to others."

"You two kids especially."

I nodded. I knew Haymitch's words were true. Peeta and I, we were the ultimate Victors. We showed that the Capitol had needed us more than we had needed them and that was the true seed of revolution that we'd planted. Together we were the ultimate symbol of the Capitol's weakness. No wonder Snow wanted us dead so much. I knew I had been a symbol. That had been hammered into me in Thirteen. But I hadn't realized just how important Peeta and I together were to the cause. It was the real reason why they'd rescued him, I'd realized. Not because I needed him. But because they did. And then I realized that they still needed us. Even after the revolution. Because despite our scars and our traumas, the fact that we'd weathered the storm showed that everyone else could do the same. I still had power over the Capitol. We still had power.

Peeta seemed to realize it too. "They can't keep us here forever, can they?" he asked Haymitch.

"They can try," our mentor answered pointedly.

"But that'd just lead to another revolution if word got out, wouldn't it?"

Haymitch belched, "Probably."

Turning his head to me, Peeta said, "You don't have to stay here. You could go to your mom or Gale if you wanted to."

I shook my head and took a seat next to Peeta. "I don't want to," I said, reaching out to clasp Peeta's hand. "I'd rather be here." I left the 'with you' implied, but Peeta picked up on it and squeezed my hand softly.

I smiled softly at him and realized that for the first time, I was looking forward to living again.

* * *

AN:

Another day, another time-skip. Most of you should know where this is. I need to talk about the whole primrose thing. I have primroses in my garden and I have climbing roses. And the plants look nothing alike. I feel that if Katniss can tell the difference between Nightlock and Rue's look-a-like berries she'd could easily tell the difference between primroses and roses. For one the plant themselves look nothing alike. NOTHING! And the flowers which are the most similar have a different petal count and center. I couldn't mix the two up if I tried and I am a city kid. Minor rant. Don't get me started on geology and what would be underwater after a disaster. But let's just say I have a degree in that and let it go. Because I do.

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.


	11. Final Rule

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

_**By Fanfic Allergy**_

* * *

**Epilogue:**

The sun was shining, the mockingjays were singing and I was struggling not to cry. Haymitch was dead. He'd died as so many others hadn't. Peacefully, quietly, in his sleep. It was a shock. I'd always expected him to go out in some kind of blaze of glory. But I think that even in death, he still liked getting one over on me.

The bastard.

I felt Peeta's hand on my shoulder and I turned to smile at him weakly. He'd been the one to find our mentor on his daily bread delivery. Peeta'd told me that for a second he'd thought he'd had a hijack moment. Then he realized that it wasn't a figment of his imagination. It was real and that had made it worse.

Looking around me, I was unsurprised to only see a few mourner other than myself and Peeta. Haymitch hadn't gone out of his way to make friends. In fact, he did the opposite because he feared what would happen if he showed that he cared about someone after his family and girlfriend were killed because of what he pulled in the Second Quarter Quell. Still, it was more people than I had expected. Including a few people from the Capitol.

Our old escort, Effie Trinket, was there. Her once outrageous Capitol wig replaced by the more respectable utilitarian haircut favored after the rebellion. I remembered that she and Haymitch had had an antagonistic relationship of sorts, but apparently that was only on the surface. From the way she was crying I wondered if there might not have been more to it. I'd always wondered why Effie would join the rebellion. Maybe she did it for love.

A small smile flitted across my lips when tried to think of the two together. They were quite possibly the most dissimilar couple I could imagine.

I knelt down and touched the simple stone in the Tribute Garden, the cemetery reserved for the fallen tributes of District Twelve. It seemed fitting to lay him to rest here. I knew Peeta and I would be the last tributes buried here. The thought made me happy.

As if sensing my thoughts, the baby within me stirred, turning somersaults and kicking me in the bladder. It made me sad to think that my child wouldn't know the man who'd saved both of its parents against some astronomical odds.

Pressing my fingers against his name, I whispered, "You think you told us all of the rules of being a Hunger Games victor, but you forgot the most important one. _Rule Eleven: Don't play by anyone rules but your own._" I paused at another kick from my child and forced down the tears that threatened to rise. "I'm going to live by that one if you don't mind, you old drunk."

I rose ponderously to my feet, Peeta coming forward to offer his support. I accepted it, gratefully. I brought my fingers to my lips and then raised them in the old salute from Twelve. The same one I'd said goodbye to Rue with all those years ago. Then I turned and together Peeta and I walked away from the grave and toward the future that Haymitch had granted us.

Fin.

* * *

AN:

Thus endeth the tale. I'd considered just calling it good after the final rule. But something in me told me that there was one more rule just waiting to be written. I also have to state that based on how Collins described Haymitch's withdrawal symptoms and that he had yellowing eyes that his liver was pretty much toast. Long term alcoholism isn't something that leads to long lives and puppies. So Haymitch died, likely in his fifties. Which, all things considered, was likely long enough for him. I am a bit of a Effie/Haymitch shipper so there was a little shout out to that pairing. I don't know why I like them together but I do. I am also an unabashed Peeta/Katniss fan. I like the pairing a lot. But this story was never about them. It was always about Haymitch and his relationship with his tributes. Especially Katniss.

I'm both happy and sad to see this story completed. Happy because I finished something and put it out without too much fear. Although I admit I got the wobbilies when I didn't get reviews and started going "ya'll hate me!" like I was back in Middle School.

Some Story Stats:

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Inspiration Songs: Metallica - _The Memory Remains_, Linkin Park - _What I've Done_, Taylor Swift - _Safe and Sound_, Gary Jules - _Mad World_, and Kelly Clarkson - _Stronger_. Also the Soundtracks to Dark Knight Rises, Tron: Legacy, and Transformers.

Thank you to all of the people who favorited, followed, and most especially reviewed this story. I really, really appreciate it.

I will hopefully see you soon with something else. Until then, May the Odds be Ever in your Favor!


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